CHAPTER 27
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Darkness.
Not the peaceful kind—but the sealed kind.
Compressed. Regulated. Enforced.
Inside Li Xuefang's subconscious, the Aetherlock Wall loomed—an immense lattice of translucent light, hexagonal plates interlocking like frozen wings mid-beat. It stretched infinitely in all directions, a prison disguised as protection. Cracks spider-webbed across its surface, glowing faintly, pulsing in unstable rhythms.
Beyond it, something pressed.
A voice echoed through the void. Calm. Clinical. Absolute.
LUMEN-9: Stability compromised. Emotional bleed detected. Initiating repairs.
Streams of liquid light flowed like molten glass, threading into the fractures, sealing them plate by plate. Each repair tightened the lattice. Each correction dimmed something unseen.
LUMEN-9: Correction complete. Suppression restored. Wake protocol engaged.
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Li Xuefang inhaled sharply.
Her eyes snapped open.
White light flooded her vision. Sterile. Harsh. The faint metallic scent of antiseptic mixed with cold air—the low hum of an ice storm system cycling above.
Pain registered—controlled, distant—mapped instantly across her chest and ribs. Internal diagnostics followed. She was alive. Functioning. Restricted.
Someone's hands were on her.
Not hostile.
Precise. Familiar.
She turned her head a fraction.
A man stood beside her, sleeves rolled to the elbows, fingers steady as he tightened a bandage across her abdomen. Broad-shouldered. Muscled. His presence filled the room without effort. His face was older than hers by four years, carved not by time but by war. Forearms bore scars earned, not healed. Sharp eyes. Military posture even while performing something delicate.
Her forever comrade.
Helix.
The one who had survived every battlefield with her—and never walked away.
He noticed her gaze instantly.
He didn't flinch.
Helix: …You're awake.
Li said nothing. She assessed him the way she assessed everything—distance, threat, intent.
General Li: Status.
A faint exhale escaped him. Relief surfaced—then vanished behind discipline.
Helix: Stable. Barely. If not for the stasis beads I embedded into you… you wouldn't have made it.
He hesitated, then added more quietly—
Helix: Xynra took internal command. Synced the beads with your systems. Bought you time.
Li glanced down. Beneath her skin, faintly glowing nodes pulsed in measured intervals. Invasive. Effective.
General Li: How did you find me...
Helix: Why did you fall into their trap? That boy's life isn't more precious than yours. So why?
Her jaw flexed once.
General Li: …I had a past promise to consider.
His hands paused.
Helix: Have you considered mine?
Silence settled between them—dense, unspoken. His fingers resumed their work, gentle in a way no one else would dare. She didn't stop him.
She never did.
That was the problem.
The door burst open.
Jiang Ren: XUEFANG—!
He froze.
Li's eyes flicked toward him.
General Li: …Puppy?
Ren crossed the room in a stumble and dropped to his knees beside the table, gripping its edge as if the world would collapse without it. His voice broke completely.
Jiang Ren: I—I thought… I thought I lost you…
His shoulders shook. No bravado. No mask. Just raw fear spilling out unchecked. He bowed his head, sobbing openly—like a child who had arrived one second too late.
Li watched him.
Unmoving.
Then Ren looked up.
And he saw it.
Her calm.
Her acceptance.
The way she allowed another man's hands to remain on her body—steady, intimate in their familiarity.
Something she has never let him do.
Something twisted sharply in his chest.
Not anger.
Intimidation.
This wasn't only silent rivalry.
This was history.
War-bonded. Blood-earned. Unquestioned trust.
Ren swallowed, his voice smaller now.
Jiang Ren: …I'm so glad you're alive.
Li said nothing.
Helix finished the bandage. His hand lingered a fraction longer than necessary—then withdrew.
He straightened.
Helix: I'll give you space.
As he passed Ren, their eyes met.
One man carried silent devotion.
The other carried fear he didn't yet understand.
Li lay back against the Neuro-Stasis Rest Pad (energy pillow), gaze fixed on
the ceiling.
Cold again.
Whole again.
But somewhere beneath the repaired Aetherlock Wall—
Something had been seen.
And it did not forget.
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